PEACEMAKER
by Bad Ronald
Summary: Our lovable agent HUNK's fighting abilities are put to the test during Project Water World.
1. Water World

**P E A C E M A K E R  
**Jeremy Urbano Rosete (Bad Ronald)

I.

**Water World**

Agent HUNK glanced at the briefcase he clutched in his gloved hands. Looking through the red lenses of his gas mask, which dimmed his focal perception a bit, but not enough to limit his vision, he held the briefcase up and slipped off his knapsack, stuffing the case inside. The case contained the files his employers needed in order to restart Umbrella corporations; albeit in a different name.

The higher-ups even offered HUNK a position on the developing executive staff, but he declined to stick with the security and retrieval sector. He turned other job prospects down not out of loyalty… but because Umbrella paid well, established stocks or not. HUNK zipped up the pack and slipped it back on again, his brisk walk faltering upon the sound of klaxons blaring. He checked his clasp-watch and mentally counted to the time he radioed in his location. Five minutes past to grab what he needed, five minutes due until the chopper arrived.

Agent HUNK took a moment scratched the parts of his skin not covered by his leather gas mask (a mere slit between the chin-cover and his throat, the rest layered with leather and Kevlar), and surveyed his surroundings. HUNK recalled one of his superiors referring to his mission impudently as "Project Water World," and only now, looking at the expanse of water and wooden shacks, could he ascertain why.

Boat harbors and fishermen wharfs with rickety-wood rails, tied bridges, and shack buildings made from oak or bamboo suspended over seawater. Only ocean as far as the eye could see, with linking fishing villages held aloft over water, connected by scaffoldings and pulleys, reminiscent of the overdone sets in the turgid movie of the same title.

Agent HUNK moved away from the window frame, settling down to the desk cabinet laid up against the wall. Just to rest for a minute. He turned, set his elbows on the wood, and watched the door slam open.

One of those damned villagers stood in the doorway with a chain-mace, yelling and gibbering, frothing at the mouth with eyes lined crimson. HUNK shot to a standing position, immediately hunching over and charging the villager out the door. They stumbled into another room with stairs leading to the roof. The villager clutched to the agent, growling and howling, spittle flying from his mouth and landing on the agent's red lenses.

The mercenary kicked him aside with a good punt to the face. His enemy shakily got up, and before he could charge blindly at him, HUNK grabbed his TMP machinegun and jammed it into the villager's gnashing mouth, shoving the barrel of his machine gun deeper in to force his head backwards.

His desperate enemy grabbed at the TMP, then involuntarily slapped HUNK on the side of his face— the tin canister of his gas mask ringing at the impact— when the villager's cerebellum shot out of its shattered cranium, punched in by a single burst from the Umbrella agent's TMP.

He let go of the villager, stepping over and looking out the window to see the rest of the fisherman town at arms, every villager with their faces quivering with hate, their eyes diluted to the point of pure rage glaring directly at him.

HUNK's eyes tracked each stalking villager. One across the bridge, a man with bundles of dynamite stuffed inside his ragged charcoal shirt pointed and yelled at the agent, and fell over the rails after his face caught a round from HUNK's machine gun. His comrades, still undaunted, ran blisteringly fast across the platforms to get to the agent.

The agent could not stop smiling grimly behind his mask; he had never felt this way before, so densely challenged and literally fighting for his life. The retrieval years back in Raccoon and Bluecreek, along with the cleanup expeditions in London, had been filled with ritual training, surveillance; the occasional outbreak.

Even then, his challenges consisted of mindless undead with no function other than to feed, coupled with the rare instances of highly lethal bio-engineered black projects which, upon encountering, remained few and far between. Now, as a mercenary, this felt better. A lot better.

The villagers his mission directives had designated codename Ganado could think, fight, devise, plan. Smart packs of men, these Ganados, each shrieking for his blood and waving their clubs and electric tazers.

Best to fragment them, then, to separate each for a kill. He couldn't allow them to group up too densely when he saw their formation; the beginnings of an unstoppable mob. He leaped down the platform outside the room, into the snarling, festering pack of ganados, roughly shoving two aside and narrowly dodging when he heard a whistling slice of a blade.

HUNK turned, fired three shots, and grabbed hold of the ladder at the back of the building of him, climbing up at a furious pace to the roof of the shack, shaped obscurely like an L. The villagers stepped over their three dead comrades, gritting their teeth, brandishing their weapons.

Each climbed up after him; the agent looked back and found them still relentless, never tiring.

HUNK reached into his knapsack and took out two hand-grenades, flicking away the ring off one grenade and rolling it towards the top rung of the ladder. He watched it drop down and the villagers' indignant squawks were drowned out in the blast. The agent ran across the roof of the shack, shooting a villager in the face and caving in the throat of another with the stock of his TMP.

He saw a scaffolding on the end of the roof, the top of the "L," and yanked at the handles on the pulley line leading all the way down to the roof of the second wood-shack building. The pulley rocketed him towards the other rooftop of a smaller shack and he took headshots at the stumbling villagers, punching a hole through their noses, eyes, mouths, foreheads, knocking each down in a show of swift sharp shooting. He landed with a roll, taking sweet advantage of the temporary lull in the battle to reload his machine gun.

The radio slung to his hip crackled to life, conveying to him_, "—on route, Mr. Death, go directly to the evac location, it is an L-shaped building with a —"_ HUNK cut the radio-feed; he heard all he needed to hear and shook his head. They marked evac on the building he just left, the villagers had him nailed balls to the wall, and he realized he finally found the challenge he'd been waiting for a long time in his professional life.

However, when he got it, he blew it by doing a very stupid thing; the mercenary underestimated the situation, and the ganados took advantage of it. He got excited, became… emotional, very unlike him.

So he had to leave and recoup, to plan, to prepare for the next encounter with a village of ganados because he went woefully unprepared, not expecting them to be so cunning and relentless.

Easy to say, but to do just that, to fight them for a second time, he had to leave this place alive.

* * *

**NOTES:**

Shit, looks like I did it again. I actually divided by zero. I'm sorry to ruin your eyes from such OWN, but I couldn't help but write after getting incredibly baked and then laughing my ass off at the RE4 intro. Only when I played Mercenaries Mode with HUNK in my favorite stage, the Water World, did I realize that I was quite literally narrating off the story straight from my ass. Excited with this new prospect, I decided to try and capture it in all HUNK's glory.

Sure, there are few times I took some liberties with how the fights go and stuff... but writing is never without taking a few liberties, is it?

Look at that button on the left-side corner, the one that says Submit Review? Yeah, you should do it, because we fanfiction authors FEED on these things... 

Mmm.


	2. Escape from Water World

II.

**Escape from Water World.**

HUNK saw an iron pipe flying towards his face and dodged it, watching it scatter while moving away from the ladder and the mob of villagers with their clubs and axes climbing up said ladder. He cocked his head at the sound of helicopter rotors looking to the sky to see a sleek, black helicopter, circling the rooftop of the building across the one he stood on.

The situation followed: he had to make his way back to the other roof to get up to the chopper. The agent went further and stopped at the sight of archers, ganados with crossbows, aiming at him from atop highly-structured wooden platforms, peering through their scopes at his visage. His shooting arm jolted at the impact of one of the black arrows. He grunted in pain and yanked the sliver out of his damaged arm.

HUNK responded by shooting at them; one hit one kill, tagging five in precisely five seconds, not wasting a single bullet, aiming carefully. He nodded to himself— grounds for improvement— especially since the agent could still aim moderately well, despite his injured arm. He took a hurried brief moment to reach into his med-pack and leashed a tight tourniquet around his arm to arrest the bleeding; gritting his teeth at the searing pain that shot up his arm— far too long since he felt exquisite pain such as this.

Agent HUNK found himself halfway across the platforms when he heard the front door of the shack he just left break into pieces. He turned to see a hulking monstrosity of a villager leering eagerly out at him. The man had a burlap sack fastened over his head and a dirty flannel shirt stretched across his barrel chest; his arms the size of HUNK's waist, flexing as he held a gigantic, filthy yellow chainsaw with two spinning blades placed adjacent to each other, jutting from the machine in their buzzing frenzy.

The sight of the oversized serial lumberjack made HUNK feel, only briefly, as if he stumbled into a bad slasher flick; a feeling that only got worse when the giant's eyes locked gaze with his red lenses. The crazed lumberjack deftly yanked a cord on his chainsaw, revving it faster and faster as he swept the massive blades in wide deadly arcs telegraphing precision slicing unexpected from a big, heavy machine. HUNK noticed thick clouds of smoke chugging out the chainsaw, shrouding the big man, rendering it impossible to see the blade swipes until it seemed too late.

He climbed the same ladder again, resisting the urge to contemplate on the irony of returning to the same place he just left, and basked in the welcome thrums of the helicopter rotors. When he hoisted himself over the edge, everything turned wrong, almost to the point of stopping him entirely and forcing him to take a few precious seconds to mull the situation over.

The chainsaw-wielding giant should've been miles back behind him but HUNK sighted him on the rooftop he just got on, chasing away the big helicopter. A surreal sight since the giant lumberjack looked like he could take down the entire chopper with just one punch. The chopper veered away from the crazed lumberjack and HUNK switched on his radio, catching the frantic feed with erratic bursts of static:

"—_can't evac on L— huge maniac's not letting us get one— get to the top of the tower— the tower— can't follow you up there, get to the top of the tower—"_

Tower? Ah, there. Hard to miss the tall wood scaffolding with three platforms, connected by three ladders leading all the way up to their respective platforms. Looked like a long climb but the lumberjack couldn't possibly make the distance, no matter how fast he appeared to be.

Then HUNK stopped and blinked at the sight of the rampaging lumberjack. No flannel shirt. Only a plaid smock with a bloody apron. Thick bandages covered his face, not a burlap sack. It dawned on him as soon as the initial flannel-clad chainsaw maniac landed on the rooftop after _jumping_ the ladder distance behind him.

Two of them.

HUNK found himself sandwiched between both chainsaw-wielders, noticing that the chainsaw of the apron wearer didn't look as heavily used as the yellow revving machine of the other. The mere existence of these two boggled his mind, and the mental trap HUNK feared would seize him during a particularly confusing scene took brutal hold of him, freezing him in a mental frenzy to figure out the situation.

"—_get to the top of the fucking tower—"_

As soon as his squawking radio shook him out of his brief haze, he recognized his situation: Two big chainsaw-wielders on both sides ready to kill him and that's all he needed to know. HUNK moved, dashing past the second chainsaw man with the bandages wrapped on his face, and made a run for the same scaffold he used to leave the same building. He felt stuck running in circles, but to leave the L rooftop, he had to use the fastest way; the scaffold and its pulley.

He could feel the heat of the chainsaw behind his back. The loud buzzing seemed to be everywhere, even inside his head through the gas mask. HUNK didn't dare look back at the two behemoths roaring after him with their growling instruments promising painful death, pitting all of his focus at the pulley.

With a hard leap, he yanked the handles and risked a look backwards; realizing that the chainsaw men had been nipping behind his heels the entire time, close enough to touch. They bellowed with bloody fury as their slippery prey stayed one step ahead of the deadly bite of their chainsaws, maddingly close and yet so far, escaping further and further into the distance. HUNK looked forward and saw a villager on the edge of the small shack the pulley lead down to.

He let go of the pulley when it jerked to a stop, using his body momentum to ram into the villager, launching him clear over the rooftop floor and crashing through the wooden fence, sending him flailing to the sea below. HUNK took no time to admire his handiwork; he turned to find himself teetering over the edge, staring down the top of the ladder at the mob of villagers, soon to be joined with both of their fearsome brethren. Soon enough, one of the chainsaw giants, the one with the bandaged face, stomped down to their location eager to get another shot at the agent.

When he did all this, his radio had been screaming at him to hurry his bloody ass up the entire time:

_"—the tower—"_

Irritated, HUNK shut off the radio to focus on his situation, he didn't need radio gabbing at his ear like a school girl while he tried not to die. The unrelenting mob now started to climb the ladder, one after another, like ants racing across their own dead to get at a dying spider. Reaching into the bag, he grabbed the last grenade, pitching it directly at the chainsaw giant amongst the midst of villagers. Only too late did they notice the frag grenade clinking to a stop. One ganado tried to voice out a warning but the grenade beat him to it, blasting shards of metal in every which way.

Ducking to avoid the exploding debris, he looked down to see most of the mob, including the chainsaw giant, decimated to bloody husks. Another glance at the second chainsaw giant, the one wearing flannel and a burlap sack, leaping down from the L-shaped building confirmed that this particular giant could care less what happened to his comrades. The demented lumberjack sighted HUNK running across the other building and started to run, but at the sight of HUNK leaping off the building and grabbing onto the ladder leading up to the top of the tower, he changed direction.

The mercenary scrambled up to the ladder at a blazing pace, his hands and feet whipping to grasp each creaking rung. Close enough to hear the pilots' frantic shrieking over the deafening thumps of the rotor blade; he turned on the radio to hear them:

"—_he's coming here— that big bastard with the chainsaw's jumping the damn platform—"_

HUNK climbed even faster, feeling the palm of his gloves digging in his skin as he raced the giant to the top of the tower. When he vaulted over the top, he had a moment to see the lumberjack on the second platform below, staring up at him with a sick fervent look in his beady red-rimmed eyes. The chopper hovered next to the tower, inching away with each second, the skids parallel to the top platform. HUNK felt the platform shudder with the sudden added weight of his persistent foe, his flannel-clad back to the agent, who instantly brought his TMP to bear and rattled out a good steady stream of bullets into the back of the giant's head.

The giant reared with the pummeling blows, but didn't fall, turning instead to face his elusive prey. He shook off machine gun bullets to the _head_, giving no notice to the slugs punching in the burlap sack, and stepped forward to give the agent a deadly sort of good bye message. HUNK would have none of it, he shot out one of the giant's eyes and as the giant hollered and stomped in pain, HUNK grasped the chopper's right skid, propelling himself up to the waiting cabin. The giant lumberjack desperately lurched after him as the chopper put some distance between them, but HUNK knew his enemy could leap the distance.

He leveled the TMP and took careful aim at the giant. Before the giant could get one foot off the air, HUNK held his breath and slipped into a strange sort of state… he could see every stitch, every ridge of that ugly burlap sack, and so he shot out the giant's other eye. The crazed lumberjack went screaming all the way down. HUNK didn't give him a second glance, and went back inside the cabin, taking a seat.

"My God, Mr. Death…"

HUNK looked at the pilots, one white, one black, staring back at him with apparent fear and respect in their faces. The first pilot looked younger than him, babbling things like, "You killed that thing, Mr. Death, I've heard about you, but I've never seen you in action, holy crap, you got him with one shot." HUNK shrugged off the compliment by field-stripping his TMP. The pilot, getting the point, went back to doing his job. The second pilot stared at him with a grim frown. Only when the mercenary stopped to regard him did he speak:

"How many have you survived, Mr. Death? Or do you even wish to survive? From what I see, in the face of your demise with time breathing down your neck, you beg it to kill you. You beg and you stall, and when the death gets close, you kill it instead. You, agent HUNK, you love to cheat death, don't you?"

HUNK spoke.

"No", he said, choosing to humor the second pilot for now. "Death and I are just fine. I make my due payments. There is no peace without war. There is no war without death. That's where I come in. Nothing about cheating death or begging it. I don't beg. Understood?"

The second pilot only stared at him before retreating back to the cockpit, but not before saying, "Even killers get tired of the battlefield, yet you do not tire. You must be more than a killer."

HUNK took the words, mulling it over in his mind. He didn't reply. He just sat in silence and thought.

**FIN  
**

* * *

**NOTES:**

Well now, isn't that nice? A finished story, how quaint!

My apologies. You see, I particularly get this way when I finish a story, I get this feeling of pride and happiness, just looking at the FIN.

Man, I need to do that more.

Anyway, nothing special other than HUNK is really badass and it's seriously fun to play as him. Yes, this was my run, and even though I embellished a few parts (Like ramming a ganado from the building, or the chopper itself), this was basically my run all the way through. I didn't kill very many ganados because I was busy stringing up a storyline and saying, "WHY IS HUNK HERE! OH YEAH, BECAUSE BECAUSE BECAUSE" and so on.

Well, now you know. If you're wondering why this shit is so short, it's cuz I got so much stuff in my life I gotta take care of.

I just hammered this down on the fly.

Now it's time for you to tell me what you think! BR loev teh review.

- BR


End file.
